[SCENE 1.]

Enter Pembrooke armde and the Forrester.

Pem. I thank thee, Forrester, whose rough grown walks, Wild in aspect, afford more courtesy Then places smoother for civility. My life, redeemd by thy industrious hand, Remaynes in love and duty bound to thee.

For. Fayre Knight, prevention of sad death by health More joyes my soule then thanks or rich reward. But is your armour easy? sits it well?

Pem. I never in my life was better fitted. This should be that unlucky fatall place Where causlesse hate drew bloud from Ferdinand. Behold the grasse: a purple register Still blusheth in remembrance of our fight. Why wither not these trees, those herbs and plants? And every neighbour branch droup out their grief? Poore soules, they do, and have wept out their sap. Yet I have paid no duety to my friend. Where is the Tombe I wild you to erect?

For. See, valiant knight, proportiond and set up As well as my poore skill would suffer mee: And heere his picture hangs.

Pem. You have done well: Yon hand I see's a perfect Architect In sorrowes building. Once more let suffice I quite your painfull travell but with thanks. Now leave me to my selfe, for here I vow To spend the remnant of my haples dayes. No knight nor Prince shall ever passe this way Before his tongue acknowledge Ferdinand The faythfullst lover and the lovingst friend The world contaynes. Ile have his Sepulcher, As yet but naked and ungarnished, E're many dayes hang richer with the spoyles And vanquisht Trophyes of proud passengers Then was the Romans wealthy Capitoll. So, gentle Forrester, bequeath thy prayers In my assistance: that is all I crave.

For. The God of power give power unto your arme That you may prove victorious-fortunate.

Pem. Farewell, kind host. [Exit Forester. And now let me embrace This empty Monument of my lost friend. Oh! wer't so happy to enshrine his bones How blest should Pembrooke be! but they are torne By the fierce savadge Woolfe whose filthy mawe Is made an unfit grave to bury him. But, if (without offence) I may desire it, I wish his soule from Paradise may see How well his name is kept in memorie. These eyes that saw him bleed have wept for him, This heart devisde his harme hath sigh'd for him, And now this hand, that with ungentle force Depryv'd his life, shall with repentant service Make treble satisfaction to his soule. Fortune, thou dost me wrong to suffer me So long uncombatted: I prythee send Some stubborne knight, some passenger, Whose stout controuling stomack will refuse To yield to my prescription but by force. I hate this idle rest of precious time.

Enter Kathar.

How now? derid'st thou my devotion, goddesse, Thou sendst a woman to incounter me? Henceforth Ile hold thee for a fayned name And no disposer of my Christian hopes. But, soft; I know that face: oh, I! tis she Was unjust cause of all my misery.

Kath. Long have I wandred with unquiet mind To find my Pembrook. That they fought, I heare; That they were wounded both to death, I heare; But whether cu'rde or dead I cannot heare, Nor lives there any (if deceasde) can tell Within what place their bodies are interr'd. Since therefore all my travell is in vayne, Here will I take a truce with former care. This cursed nook was that unlucky plot Where cursed Ferdinand did kill my love. What knight is this? Ile question him: perhaps He can resolve me where my Pembrooke is. —Joy and good fortune, sir, attend your state.

Pem. Your wishes come too late. What seeke you, Madam?

Kath. Tell me, sir knight, for so you seeme to be, Know you this dismall place you do frequent? Or have you heard of that unhappy fight Was here perform'd by Pembrook and his foe?

Pem. Yes, Madam, I have heard of it long since And to my grief knew both the gentlemen.

Kath. But can you tell me if they live or no, Or, dead, what hand hath given them buryall?

Pem. Rest you assured, Madam, they are dead: The one of them, to whom I was allyed And neerely knit in friendship from my youth, By me lyes buried heere: a braver knight And truer Lover never breathd in Fraunce.

Kath. O tell me, is it Pembrooke? if for him You have erected this fayre monument, Perpetuall honour I will do your state.

Pem. Not only, Madam, have I built this tombe In his memoriall, but my selfe have sworne Continuall residence within this wood; And for the love I bare him weare these armes That whatsoever knight, adventurer, or other, Making his journey this way and refusing To do knights homage to my breathlesse friend, By this assayling steele may be compeld.

Kath. Oh let me know your name, so kindly mov'd To dignifie my Pembrooke's high deserts.

Pem. You did not heare me say 'twas Pembrook, Madam. What is become of him I do not know Nor greatly care, since he did wrong my friend And first inkindled this dissensious brawle. This buryed here is noble Ferdinand, His fathers comfort and his Countryes hope. Oh, Madam, had you seene him as I did, Begirt with wounds that like so many mouthes Seem'd to complayne his timelesse overthrow, And had before bin inward with his vertues; To thinke that nature should indure such wracke And at one time so many precious gifts Perish by death, would have dissolv'd your heart. He was the very pride of fortitude, The house of vertue, and true friendship's mirrour. Looke on his picture: in the armes of death When he was ready to give up the ghost, I causde it to be drawne. If at that time, In that extremity of bitter pangs, He lookt so lovely, had so fresh a colour, So quick a moving eye, so red a lip, What was his beauty when he was in health? See with what courage he indur'd the combat, Smiling at death for all his tyranny. Had death bin ought but what he was, sterne death, He would have bin enamour'd with his looks.

Kath.—A certayne soft remorce Creeps to my heart, perswades me he was true, Loving and vertuous, but my selfe unkind Coyly to scorne the proffer of his mind.

Pem. O that in Justice of her former hate She now would hopelesse doat on Ferdinand. Ile do the best I can to bring her on: Despaire and madnesse fetch her off againe.— Madam, how say you? wast not a grevious thing So rich a Jem should lye rak't up in dust, So sweet a flower be withred in his prime?

Kath. Death was a villayne for attempting it And so was Pembrooke for effecting it. No bloudy Scythian or inhumane Turke But would ha trembled to ha toucht his skin Or spilt one drop of his Heroick bloud.

Pem. Had not that Lady then an yron heart, A rude ingratefull mind, a savadge spirit, That knew this vertuous honourable Knight, This gracious shape and unmatchd excellence, To be intangled with her fervent love, To serve her in all loyalty of heart, To reverence and adore her very name, To be content to kisse the lowly earth Where she did set her foot; and when he sued For grace, to scorne him, to deride his sighes, And hold his teares and torment in contempt? Of all that ever liv'd deserv'd she not The worlds reproch and times perpetuall blot?

Kath. Heard you him ever speak of such a one?

Pem. Oft times, but chiefly then when he perceyv'd His hurt was mortall and no way but death, At every grone he cald upon her name As if that sound were present remedy; And when insulting death drew short his breath And now was ready to close up his eyes, Farewell, quoth he, where e're I find a shrine My soule fly thou to beautious Katharine.

Kath. That ruthlesse mind, that iron savage heart, So greatly loved and so little loving, Breathes in this brest; 'twas I returnd disdaine For deepe affection, scorne for loyalty, And now compassionlesse shall pine my selfe. Oh, Ferdinand, forgive me, Ferdinand: Injoyne me any penance for that wrong, Say I shall tread a tedious pilgrimage To furtherest Palestine, and I will do it. But peace, fond woman! these exclaimes are vaine: Thy Ferdinand is dead and cannot heare, As thou wast sometimes deafe and wouldst not heare.

Pem. A just reward.—Come, Madam, have you done? Give me the picture I may hang it up.

Kath. Oh take it not away: since I have lost The substance, suffer me to keep the shaddow. Me thinks, so long as this is in my hand, I claspe my Ferdinand between mine armes; So long as I behold this lively forme, So long am I refreshed by his smiles, So long, me thinks, I heare him speak to me. Knew I the Paynter drew this counterfeyt I would reward him with a mynt of gold.

Pem. If such a pleasure you receyve by this, I tell you, Madam, I shall shortly have His whole proportion cut in Alabaster, Armd as he was when he encountred here, Which kneeling shall be set upon his tombe.

Kath. On that condition I will gather flowers And once a day come straw them at his feet, And once a day pay tribute of choyce thanks To you the furtherer of my happinesse: Till then I place the picture where it was.

Enter Clowne and Bellamira.

Clow. Come on, Madam; me thinks now a maske would do well. But I perceyve your drift, I smell your policy; you think a bold face hath no need of a black mask. Shall I tell you what you look like? A broyld herring or a tortur'de Image made of playster worke.

Bel. So, sirra, you may scoffe my misery.

Pem. Still haunted with these women! are men vanisht? Or what occasion leaves the Realme of Fraunce So voyd and empty of adventurous knights?

Clow. Out of peradventure, Madam, the ghost of Saint George is come out of England to see what hospitality S. Denis keeps in Fraunce.

Pem. Poore Bellamira, I lament thy state But I must still suppresse my discontent. —What are you, so deformed with lothsome spots? And what that Anticke keeps you company?

Clow. Anticke; thou lyest: and thou wert a knight of ginger-bread I am no Anticke. The whole parish where I was borne will sweare that since the raigne of Charlemain there was not a better face bred or brought up amongst them.

Pem. Away, ye russeting—

Kath. Have patience, Knight: how ever thus deform'd, This Lady is the daughter of Navar. Madam, it joyes me I have met you heere Though much laments me of your heavy plight. There needs no repetition of your wrong: I know the villayne Burbon did the deed, Whom my incensed brother will revenge.

Bel. For Philips sake I have been martyrd thus, And for his sake left King and Courtly life To entertayne a Pilgrims payneful habit. But on what strange adventure stayes this Knight Within this desolate forsaken wood?

Kath. For love of Ferdinand your princely brother Whose hearse he gards in honorable Armes.

Bel. Is this my brothers Hearse; is this the place Where I was shipwrackt of a brothers name? Oh let me spend a loving sigh for him And sacrifice a sisters holy rites. For ever rest, sweet Ferdinand, in peace Untill thy body glorified from heaven Become immortal by thy soules returne.

Pem. Poore Bellamira, how I pity thee, Yet must forbeare to comfort thy distresse.

Clow. Is my yong Lord buried here? I say no more, but I pray God send him a joyful insurrection.

Kat. Inough, sweet Bellamira. These leprous spots tis time they were remov'd. Come, goe with me: since I left Aquitayne And came acquaynted with these private walks, It was my happy chance to meet an Hermit Whose skill in Phisike warrants present cure And pure refining of your poysoned bloud. Ile bring you thither: afterward select Delicious sweets to decke your brothers tombe. Come, sirra, follow us. [Exeunt.

Clow. Doe not think, Madam, that Ile forsake you. And so, sir, you that walk in pewter vessayle, like one of the worthyes, will you be rul'd by me?

Pem. Wherein?

Clow. To set a gyn for Woodcocks & catch your selfe first. [Exit.

Pem. Hence, beetle-head. And, Pembrook, now bethink How great a tyde of miseries breakes in. First, thou art taxed with the losse of him Whom equall with thy selfe thou holdest Deare; Next, Bellamira is become a Leper, Whose absence Philip carefully laments; Then trecherous Burbon joynes himselfe with Fraunce And both the Kings are angerly incenst; But last, which is some comfort to the rest, Disdaynfull Katharine wastes with fruiteless love: Would all so minded like mishap might prove. But by this signall there are knights at hand: I must provide their valours to withstand.

Enter Fraunce, Burbon, Rodoricke, Peter de Lions, at one dore; at the other Navar, Flaunders, Dicke Bowyer and Souldiers: Pembrooke betweene them.

Pem. Stay your intended march.

Lew. What Peere of France Or in the world, so haughty-resolute, Dare breathe the word of "stay" to mighty Fraunce?

Nav. Or what art thou presum'st to stay my course?

Pem. A knight I am and to adventures bound: This monument erected for my friend By me is garded. If you meane to passe, You must do homage or else fight with me.

Lew. Homage of me! Know I am King of France And in subjection to no earthly powers.

Nav. Thou knowst not what thou sayst to challenge us Of any such inferiour priviledge. What homage is it thou requir'st of us?

Pem. First to acknowledge him lyes buried here The faythfulst Lover and most valyant Knight That in this time drew sword or manag'd horse.

Bow. And what was he? Ascapart[139] or your countreyman Gargantua, that stuft every button of his coate with a load of hay? 'S hart, wee have met a fellow here's all mouth, hee speakes nothing but Monarch. Doest thou heare, King? give me leave to incounter this puckfist,[140] and if I doe not make him cry Peccavi say Dicke Bowyer's a powdered Mackrell.

Pet. My bloud beginnes to boyle; I could be pleasd To have this fellow by the eares but that Theres many of my betters heere in place.

Fland. King of Navarre, let Flanders cope with him.

Burb. Imperiall France, give Burbon leave to try The hazzard of a combat with this Boaster.

Pem. Dispatch, Navarre: one of you come forth To enterchange a warlike blow or two.

Lew. First let us know what penalty thou setst Upon thy selfe if thou be vanquished.

Pem. A recantation of my former wordes, A servitude to him that conquers me; But who soever is by me subdued Must leave his Shield to beautifie this shrine.

Bur. Let not, Navar, my Lord, rob us of honor. Say Burbon first shall breake a Launce with him.

Rod. Ascribe that priviledge, my Lord, to mee; And Roderick will have death or victory.

Lew. No, noble Roderick; Burbon shall begin, And as he speedes we will imploy your power.

Pem. Provide thee, Burbon, Ile not favour thee.

Bur. Be sure Ile shew thee like hostility.

Lew. Hold, the advantage is [up]on thy side; The Duke of Burbon shal hang up his shield.

Pem. Ide rather have his life then al your shelds. Who is next?

Bow. Zounds, I think he has a patten to take up all the shields ith countrey. Hang me, if thou wantst worke heeres for Navar, the earle of Pembrok and Cavaliero Bowier. [Fight.] A thousand pound to a Taylors bodkin this fellow has a familiar; but howsomever, thou mayst thank my lame legge. Theres my shield.

Lew. Now, Roderick, betake you to your taske. [Fight.

Rodor. My fortune's answerable to the rest.

Lew. Since all miscarrie, Fraunce will put his chaunce Upon the hazzard of the Dice for once.

Pem. You are an Honorable foe, my Lord: [Fight. By law of Armes you must hang up your shield.

Lew. I yeld to law and thy approved valour. King of Navar, will onely you sit out?

Nav. No, king of Fraunce: my bloud's as hot as thine And this my weapon shall confirme my words. [Fight.

Bow. Navar, downe too! 'S hart this fellow hath the tricke of it. If he be not a witch or some Devill let me be slickt into a Carbinado.[141]

Nav. Thou sonne of Chivalrie, let me now intreate To know his name for whome thou reapst this honor, Or what he was whose bodie's heere interde?

Pem. A valiant Knight, his name yong Ferdinand, Slayne by misfortune of a friendly hand.

Nav. Is it my sonne thou makst thy valours prise And striv[e]st to eternize with thy sword? Let me embrace thee. Not alone my shield, But I will leave my heart upon his shrine. My dearest Ferdinand, I would my sighes Or sad lamenting teares might have the power Like Balme to quicken thy benummed joynts: Then would I drowne this marble e're I went And heat it hote with vapour of my breath.

Lew. Navar, this now may testify thy wrong In false accusing me for his remove.

Nav. Thou maist be guilty still for ought I know; For though I find him dead I find not yet The Tragick manner of his haples end. Thou mayst as well have murdred Ferdinand As favour him hath poysond Bellamira.

Lew. Injurious king, it was base Ferdinand, On whom just heavens have shown just vengeance heere, Ravisht my Katharine and convayed her hence Where I shall never more behold her face.

Nav. Tis false, and wee'le mayntain it with our swords.

Lew. Tis true, and wee'le mayntain it with our swords.

Pem. By heaven, the toung prophanes the sacred name Of Ferdinand with any villany, Ile cut it out or stop his throate with bloud And so dam in his blasphemous upbraydes.

Nav. Content thee, knight; Ile ease thee of that labor. To morrow is expir'd the time of truce: Fraunce, on with thy Battalions to the plaine Thou wast prepar'd before to pitch upon. Ile meet thee there.

Lew. And I will meet with thee. Sound Drums and Trumpets: honord knight, farewell: Who shall survive next morn strange newes shall tel.

[Exeunt.

Pem. Thus heady rage, blind in her rash resolve, Drew Ferdinand and mee into the field As now it doth these hot incensed kings. Wer't not my vowes prohibit my desire, To stay the inconvenience of this fight, I would discover where their Daughters are, To shew the error they are shrouded in: But Time hath run a desperate course with mee And desperate let them runne to misery. Here comes a Straggler of their Army. Stand!

Enter Philip.

Phil. What voice is that presumes to byd me stand?

Pem. His that can force thee if thou wilt not stand.

Phil. By this bright ayre reflected on my sword, If the whole army of Navar had said As much to Philip, yet he would not stand. And thou but one, how dar'st thou prefer it, Knowing how sharp a Spurre doth pricke me on, The death of Burbon for my Bellamire?

Pem. Hang up thy shield, as other knights have done, Upon the Hearse of noble Ferdinand, And thou mayest freely passe without controule.

Phil. The Hearse of Ferdinand! I honor him: He was the brother of my dearest Love. What's this I see? my fathers batterd shield. The shield of Fraunce! of Flaunders! Burbons too? It can not then impeach or prejudice The name of Philip to consort with such, Especially being done for Ferdinand. There is my shield, and, Knight, but for my haste, I would expostulate of other things: But, after traytrous Burbon I have slayne, Knight, looke for me, Ile visit thee agayne. Now, Rodorick, keepe thy word, and I am blest, But if thou fayle Ile forward with the rest. [Exit.

Pem. Successful action sit upon thy sword![142] This net of sorrowes, I perceyve, intangles Not only Pembrooke but the Court of France; Navar and his associats are all toucht. Time looke upon us and at last determine These heart-dissevering tumults with a peace.

Enter Ferdinand.

Ferd. Since, Ferdinand, by gracious providence Thou art recovered of thy mortall wounds, With the new life thy body is revivde Revive the ancient passions of thy mind. Think on thy friend, on Pembrook take remorse, Whose honord life thy hasty hand cut off. This is the place, as I remember mee. Whats heere? a Tombe? who hath prevented me In my religious duty to my friend? Yon Knight, I doubt not, can resolve me.

Pem. What art thou? stand!

Ferd. A Knight, and fayne would know What sacred monument and Tombe this is.

Pem. His, whilst he liv'd, that of the worlds increase Was the most loyall friend and valiant Knight; Which thou must likewise ratifie with me And hang thy shield up to adorne his Hearse Or venture Combate for denying it.

Ferd. His name, I pray thee.

Pem. Ferdinand.

Ferd.—What's he Acquainted with my name? belike some one Lov'd Pembroke, and supposing (wrongfully) Me slaine by him, to satisfie for that Observes this honor in my memory. Be not thou, Ferdinand, ingratefull then, But stand for Pembroke as this Knight for thee.

Pem. What answer givest thou? shal I homage have?

Ferd. Not for his sake thou nam'st, not for Ferdinand. There liv'd a Knight exceld his petty fame As far as costly Pearle the coursest Pebble,— An English Knight cald Pembroke: were his bones Interred heere, I would confesse of him Much more than thou requir'st, and be content To hang both shield and sword upon his Hearse.

Pem. How comes this stranger by my name? Belike He was affected unto Ferdinand, And for his sake (hearing he did me wrong) Covets to make amends, or meanes to prove If I imbrace him with unfayned love. He shall not doubt of that.—Once more I say Twas Ferdinand was the renowned Knight Of all the world.

Ferd. But I deny that saying, Giving to Pembroke that preeminence.

Pem. For Ferdinand my valour will I try.

Ferd. In Pembrooks valour I will fight and die.

[Discover eche other in fighting.

Pem. Eyther I dreame or this is Ferdinand.

Ferd. My sight deludes me or stout Pembroke lyves.

Pem. Thrice happy hour[143]! I do embrace my friend.

Ferd. Welcome, oh welcome, Pembrok, to myne armes, Whom I imagined death had tane from me.

Pem. The like did I by Princely Ferdinand, But that he lives my soule confounds with joy.

Ferd. Tell me, deare friend, since our unlucky fight Have you heard ought of my disdainfull Love?

Pem. Of her and all the rest. Her Father lives: This is his shield and this is great Navars, This Rodoricks, [this] the Duke of Orleance, And this malicious Burbons: all the which I forc't from them to beautifie thy shrine. But tis of Katharine thou desir'st to heare: She likewise hath bin here; her flinty heart, So much before inclined to cruelty, Now waxeth tender: she no sooner saw Thy picture here, but by heavens providence, Or how I know not, she so doats on it As I supposde she would a dyed for love.

Ferd. Has then my shaddow and supposed death Brought that to passe my living substance could not?

Pem. It hath, and never Lady more enamour'd Then now is Katharine of her Ferdinand. I told her, and no more then truth I told, A cunning Carver had cut out thy shape. And whole proportion in white alablaster, Which I intended here should be set up. She earnestly entreated she might have A sight of it and dayly be permitted To deck thy tombe and statue with sweet flowers: Shee's but even now departed to that end, And will (I know) be quickly here agayne. Now, for assurance I dissemble not, Instead of thy resemblance cut in stone Kneele here, thyself, and heare her pitious mone.

Ferd. Content! I hold your counsell for the best; Weele once conclude our sorrowes with a jest.

Pem. Soft there's a cushen: nay, and you must be bare And hold your hands up, as the maner is.

Ferd. What if I held a book as if I pray'd?

Pem. Twere best of all; and, now I think upon' Here is a booke: so, keepe your countenance; You must imagine now you are transformed. Yonder she comes; in any case stir not.

Enter Katharine.

Kath. I feare I have detracted time too long In my determinde service to my Love; But Ile redeeme my fault with double care. See where his statue is set up: kind knight, For ever Katharine will record thy truth.

Pem. How say you, Madam; ist not very like him!

Kath. As like as if it were himselfe indeed. And would to God my prayers might be heard, That, as the image of Pigmalion once, Life might descend into this sencelesse stone: But that was faynd, as my desire is fond; Relentlesse Death withholds my Ferdinand, And no intreaty may recover him. In token, then, I do repent my scorne That I was cruell to so kind a friend, Thou, the presenter of his absent person, Receive these sweets; thy temples be adornd With this fresh garland; thy white ivory hand Boast of this ring, which, if thou wert alive, Should bind our faythes up in a nuptiall knot: But, for thou canst not be reviv'd agayne, He dwell with thee in death, and, as my spirit Mounts to the happy mansion of thy spirit, So, to accompany thy shaddow here, Ile turne my body to a shaddow, too, And, kneeling thus, confront thy silent lookes With my sad looks. This is the Instrument: Now, Ferdinand, behold thy Katharine comes.

Ferd. And she is welcome unto Ferdinand.

Pem. Ile play the dark for both and say Amen. Nay, muse not, madam: tis no sencelesse Image, But the true essence of your wished Love.

Kath. I am asham'd to looke him in the face.

Ferd. Hide not those splendant lights: hereafter be A constant wife; it shall suffice for me.

Kath. Heaven cast her off if Katharine prove not so.

Pem. Of that no more: now let us haste from hence To quiet the dissension lately sprung Betweene your parents. Philip, likewise gone To be reveng'd on Burbons trechery, Perhaps may stand in need of friendly ayd. To him and them our vowes must next be payd.

Ferd. What Pembrook counsels we consent unto.

[Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.